


LAST RESORT || stray kids

by SQUISHSUNGS



Category: K-pop, Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Parasites, Science Fiction, Virus, almost dying... of fun!, can we appreciate single characters, everyone is kind of angsty for no reason, how to make everyday objects into weapons 101, i watched one apocalyptic drama and look what happened, idk i'm no doctor scientist, parents?? who??, skz - Freeform, tbh it's more friendship focused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29565465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SQUISHSUNGS/pseuds/SQUISHSUNGS
Summary: "THREE SHOTS LEFT; THE FIRST IS TO SAVE YOU, THE SECOND IS FOR IF I MISS AND THE LAST ONE IS TO PIERCE MY SKULL..."The world is burning. Neighbors are killing neighbors while parasites are nestling inside humans' bodies, breaking out as blood-thirsty, serpent-like creatures. While on the run from his past, lone wolf Yang Jeongin stumbles upon a collection of what he describes as: a douche, a scaredy-cat, a self-proclaimed smartass and an angsty teen drop-out. At first he believed they were only nuisances, but the more time he spends with them, the more he realizes he might not be alone with his goals after all.Meanwhile on the rich side of town, the Lee siblings have been living on as normal as they can. However, when the screams from outside the wall get too loud, their ignorance runs dry. Their father should've guarded the gun closet better.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Felix, Seo Changbin/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Kudos: 16





	1. intro

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi! thank you for checking this out! i'm honestly quite new to sci-fi and gore, so it's a fun challenge i'm willing to face. i actually don't know how i'm writing this; i literally can't watch action movies because *violence*
> 
> anyways, i hope you'll enjoy this story!!

"Run! Fucking run, I said!"

Jeongin coughed loudly. The dust felt like a slice to his eyes. He raised his right arm to shield the dirt. A sharp claw slashed past them. On instinct he spun his body around the shorter boy. Both fell to the ground, the nails brushing past his cheek. He hissed. 

"If you're not going to run then at least get the fuck out of my way!"

He felt his cheek. It stung like hell. Warm red liquid dribbled down his jaw. With an angered curse he pulled his lame looking kitchen knife from his back. The serpent had grown, its body now filling up the entirety of the town's square and it was only getting bigger as more infectees merged into one with choking screams. 

"I'm not going to let you go alone," Jisung yelled. He pressed Jeongin's head to his chest, rolling them out of the range of a fanged tongue. On the spot they had just lain the concrete was a cracked hole. The monster screeched, ripping their eardrums in half. With his DIY spear he stabbed it in its eye. The monster screeched again. 

Jisung twisted the stick. The screeches intensified with every turn; louder, louder, silenced. "Goddamn I thought it'd never shut up," he huffed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He clambered to his feet, holding a hand out for Jeongin to grab. 

Jeongin watched a dark stain form on Jisung’s right bicep. The boy didn't seem to be noticing it as of now; if Jeongin would point it out it would be more likely his pain receptors would be woken from their slumber. He slapped the boy's hand out of his way, pushing himself up with the minimum force; they both had strength to save. 

He nodded at Jisung’s outstretched hand that was still waiting to be accepted. "Use that to murder a monster."

"Where did they go?" Jisung asked, searching around the area. The chaos on their end had died down, yet the fight was far from over. If they let down their guard they were certain to die like many before them had. “And the others? Where are the others?”

Jeongin’s blood ran cold. The frequency of hissing ran through his bones. Staring the monster right in its hollow, slit eyes he hissed back.


	2. Chapter 2

The city was burning; an unrecognizable desert, beige with dirt and grey with ashes. The boy let out a puff of blue smoke, leaning his hooded head against splintered frame. He spun the lighter, twisting it from his index finger to his pinky and back again. He mindlessly repeated the cycle as another blood-pouring gag sounded from eight stories bellow shuddered the nerves in his body. He had gotten used to it by now; the disgusting sound irked him like the voice of his siblings used to.

The roof underneath his window shed had caved in and Jeongin could only bitterly laugh. If it had been his body in the crater, not a soul would've batted an eye. Or noticed for that matter. There had been a spike in suicides the moment the crisis had gotten out of hand. The moment a person detected any patch of scaly skin, a self-induced life exit was the next big option. Not for the greater good, to stop the spread or any of that bullcrap the government liked to spill. No, this was because they were batshit terrified. The more cowardly ones waited for the parasite to swallow them whole. Jeongin found himself part of the latter category.

He hadn't had a slimy serpent manifest inside his body — yet —, but in the months he'd been on the run he had enough time to weigh out his options for when the day came. He’d encountered the various stages of the disease and in multiple people. Some he was acquainted with, others complete strangers. However, in any case it had been terrifying.

His ears rung again with the echo of gurgling. Another one. He laid the cigarette between his lips. The tip burned a bright orange as he let the smoke caress his lungs. The nicotine brought a calming rush over his brain. His muscled released tension as a cloud surrounded him like a cocoon, shielding him as an illusion of relaxation.

Yang Jeongin had been a stray since pretty early on in the... difficult situation. His father had died in a riot for goods and shortly after his mother had gotten infected. When that happened, under the government's orders the kids had to be taken away from their parents, while those got sent off to _quarantine_ — basically a hospice, though the officials firmly denied that was the case. How they loved it, pouring buckets of staged hope over the people. Empty promises. Jeongin knew his mother was as good as dead.

Once the parasite had nestled — _incursus angui_ — it took a minimum of six days for the first symptoms to show up. It started with random ticks, mostly of the head. After that followed an increased sensitivity to heat; victims would become nearly immobile in colder spaces. Some would try to play it off as a fever. The sign after, however, couldn't be denied. Perhaps it could be a skin allergy or rash of some sort, though it would be a weird way to explain skin peeling off for black leather. Venom-dripping scales. It would spread and spread and spread until the final step of the transformation: slit pupils. And then... a humanoid serpent would crawl up the host's throat like a puddle of darkened blood and wrap itself around the infectee’s body as a cruel second skin that was now their new identity. That identity was mainly made up out of murdering human-kind as a whole.

Jeongin had a fair share of hatred for humanity himself, so the problem didn't lie there. As long as he didn't have to die. Perhaps he did, but he was scared; scared of what death could be. He wondered why he still head on ran into battles. He'd like to blame it on his raging teenage hormones. He was stacked on testosterone, anyways.

His cigarette had burned up; Jeongin had used it up until its last tip. The intoxication fog immediately subdued and the tragedy of the ground floor finally hit his senses again. He threw the stub on the floor, giving it a rub with his heel. Leaning against the wall was his two trusted axes; the sole objects that had gotten him this far. The other things were his kleptomanic tendencies, his blessed lying abilities and his oh so flirtatious smile.

He spun it around in the palm of his hands, the fond memory of his father cutting up firewood flowing through his mind. But those times were over. He had done the lowest to survive and his family is dead.

He placed the now deemed weapon on his self-made back strap — who would've believed he'd be into arts and crafts in his later life – and made his way down the stairs. The building had been abandoned; aside from the few corpses it was empty. The elevator was — surprisingly — still in order, however Jeongin thought taking it was too risky, despite his innate laziness. There were some freaky options, some of them being that he could either find a body in there, an infectee or the electricity would fail them once again and he'd be stuck. Perhaps if luck was on his side he'd encounter all three at once!

His beat-up, once white sneakers hit the barren land of the Draught. He scanned the area. No oddities... but it was scarily calm. Calm in the sense of nobody being bloodily killed off by demons. The sun was nearing its 12 pm peak, which was the time they were out to soak up the rays. That's what raised the suspicion. Not a single serpent was in sight.

He grabbed the handle of his axe, slowly unleashing it for his protection. His footprints crunched with every motion. It wasn't as if their hearing was great, but their sensitivity to vibrations was out of the roof. He could feel a curse slip past his lips; he might as well have started tap dancing. With a bright red flag in hand. Belting along to _Las Ketchup_.

There was a rattle from behind him; a clinking of metals, most likely kitchen cutlery. He narrowed his sharp eyes into a cutting gaze. _Step.... step.... step..._

With a war cry he stomped the handle of his axe past his side and into what felt like a human. There was a loud grunt, gasp for air. Then a dull, sandy thud.

"The fuck... did you do that... for..."

Jeongin turned around with a sigh, resting his weapon on his shoulder. He cocked an eyebrow at the sad excuse of a human on the ground, stomach clutched and groaning like those football players he used to watch on TV. Those were always overly dramatic too, acting as if their leg had broken when really, it had only been tapped.

"Don't sneak up on me," he stated flatly. He crouched down, lifting the boy's chin with the sharp side. "Or try a little harder instead of stomping around like an ox."

The anger in his dark stare was of short glory. As soon as he felt the cold metal stroked his skin, they doubled in size. He looked like a cornered dog. Jeongin huffed, lips shaping into a smirk. He pressed the tip into his neck a little harder, causing him to whimper. A trickle of blood dropped onto the yellow sand, giving it a sickly maroon tint.

"Seungmin!" The boy then yelled.

Jeongin, taken aback, shifted his gaze away from the boy, expecting an attack. Those short seconds were all the boy needed and in his clanking, ox-like glory, Jeongin felt himself being taken by the collar. No time to react, his upper body jolted forward with his nose colliding nastily with a sharp knee.

He stumbled backwards, holding onto his nose as crimson dribbled down his fingers. "The fuck kind of gangster are you!?"

As he was about to lunge forward, the air got trapped inside his throat. Breathing was a struggle. It was as if a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around his body. Both hands went up as reflex, doing their best to create as much space as possible for just one more inhale. His hood flipped back, revealing his dark blue hair to the world while he fought for air.

"Watch out! He's dangerous!"

"I know," someone spoke from behind, completely composed and as if choking someone required no strength and was no issue. If the first boy sounded nasal, this one was even worse. "That's why I sent you."

Hearing a voice at least brought some peace to Jeongin's mind. He'd rather be murdered by rat-like humans than twisted demons. Although, there wasn't much of a difference between those two.

"Can we converse like evolved beings now?"

Jeongin tried his luck; he kicked his leg back. By the way the boy — it had definitely been a male voice — let out a slight whine of discomfort he guessed he'd hit the shin. It hadn't been enough as the grip around his neck tightened again. The bright, blue afternoon sky got dotted with black.

"Fuck... fine.."

Immediately after release he took generous huffs of oxygen, almost considering quitting smoking. His lungs were burning and not in the relaxing, addicting type of way. He rested his hands on his knees. He coughed, heaved, coughed. Once his vision stabled he took in the looks of his attackers. In a clumsy stumble he reached for the sole thing that helped him feel protected when closed in like that.

There were only two of them. One was a short, muscular guy. His shoulders were probably broad enough to bulldozer him into a wall, yet Jeongin pretty much took him out with a single hit, he cockily remembered. The taller one was proportionally mostly legs, with cracked rounded glasses resting on his nose. Both of them had black hair, though the shorter one had an undercut with electric bolts. They were in a horrible state. Their clothes had been terribly ripped, from their jeans to their flannels. Only the t-shirts were left intact.

"Why were you following me?" he eventually asked, after he stabilized himself. His chest was still aching, but there was no way he'd let them know.

The shorter, buffer member of the duo turned to 'Seungmin' with squinted eyes. "Yeah, Seungmin, why _were_ we?"

Not sparing his partner any acknowledgment he asked, "You're Yang Jeongin, aren't you?"

Jeongin clenched his jaw. "Who's that?"

"I already know so stop playing dumb," Seungmin replied. "Help us raid a store."

Jeongin had to give it to him: he didn't beat around the bush. He could appreciate it when they got straight to the point instead of making him guess.

He said, "And how do you think I can help you with that?"

"I've heard various complaints from store owners," Seungmin responded, strapping his arm gear back on a little tighter, "which means you're an expert at it."

"Then that means that when I come there they'll recognize me," Jeongin deadpanned, leaving his battle stance to instead lean into the wall. The sun had shone on it for a while now; he could swear his skin was sizzling at the contact. However, it couldn't be worse than his nerves boiling up. "You seemed so smart, but I guess I was wrong."

"We've been out for three days now," the other interfered. "Help us, please."

"That's not my problem," Jeongin replied lowly. "Listen, I don't mingle. So you two run along and give up. Good luck surviving."

He saluted and made his way back up to the building.

Seungmin cleared his throat. "We have a shelter."

Jeongin didn't turn around, though he halted with his foot on the first step.

"I don't care, so do I," he replied.

"Why won't you? If I promise you won't ever have to see us again after this? Can we at least get reasoning—"

"Shut up," Jeongin interrupted the shorter's rambling.

"Why? Are you—"

"No, Changbin, be quiet," Seungmin agreed with Jeongin. "They're here."

The sickening creaking of bones tremored through the air, together with a slithering that sent chills down all their spines. The three made eye contact. Changbin took a kitchen knife — lame — that he'd strapped to his thigh while Seungmin took a crowbar — a little less lame, but still lame. Taking shelter behind the walls, they were pretty much still in plain sight. Luckily snakes were basically blind until threatened.

The gurgling and groaning closed in on them. Jeongin held up three fingers. One down, two down, three... down. Seungmin charged first, with a yell for strength he landed the heavy metal on its head. All it did was make it was make the creature waver slightly. All three froze on spot as the serpent cowered down. By now Jeongin had cold sweat forming on his forehead. He pulled up his hood again, together with his mask.

_Thump... thump... thump..._ His heart was bruising his ribs with its forceful beating. An eternity of nothing, yet none had the sanity to flee for life. Sudden movements would be provoking, probably.

An ear-piercing screech. The monster's back arched. Its mouth had grown in size, so much the bottom half reached its chest area. A split tongue came out, its edge two sharp fangs, slicing, cutting, stabbing at them.

"Great, now you made it mad," Jeongin muttered, ducking out of a fang’s path.

"Okay, but why didn't you do anything!?" Seungmin yelled, taking a broken chair that lay abandoned by what was once the security office.   
He held it above his head, giving it a good swing. It flew, hitting the demon right in the stomach. "Down!"

He took Changbin by the by the collar at his neck, pulling him down as it now reached a new level of anger. Jeongin pressed his back against the wall, peeping from through a tiny hole of lost bricks. There was another toe-curling shriek. It started twitching, seemingly preparing for its next upgrade.

Jeongin thought that perhaps it was time to make himself useful. With quick eyes he inspected the creature’s body. The non-scaly part, he couldn't pin-point where it was. Until it just about lit up.

"Out of the way, scaredy cat," he commanded, pushing Changbin to the side.

He took a frontal charge. Tongue, that was a lot of tongue. Jeongin never liked it when they used too much tongue. He hissed, hand latching onto his shoulder as a sharp pain shot up.

"Jeongin, you dumbass!"

He lifted his axe, slicing right through what harmed him. It fell down like a limp noodle as blood spurted everywhere. The monster was enraged by now — who wouldn't if their tongue got chopped off — and lifted its claw. Jeongin closed his eyes. Maybe he should've just died already. However, the only impact he felt was his body being thrown down in the sand. Howling, a flush of blood and a thud that shook the world.

Once he opened his eyes again, Changbin was pulling out his _— lousy_ — kitchen knife out of the serpent's neck. He wiped it off on his plaid shirt.

"Luckily it's black. Now no one will see the stain." He held out his hand. "Call me a _scaredy cat_ one more time, I dare you."

Jeongin rolled his eyes and whispered under his breath, "Scaredy cat."

Changbin gave him a puzzled look while Seungmin attempted to mask a snort by covering his mouth with his hand. Before the shorter could figure out what was so funny Jeongin took his hand. Pain shot up his arm and his torso. His limb had momentarily gone stiff while he ignored his injury and eventually had forgotten about it, however now it was more present than ever.

He scowled, teeth gritted as he leaned to anything for support. That 'anything' being Changbin.

Changbin jolted at the sudden weight falling upon him. The boy hanging on his shoulder was similar to carrying three sacks of potatoes. Despite only having known him for a few moments, fighting off death together sparked a concern inside him. Jeongin, with his mouth shut and the soft whimpers he tried so hard to mask, revealed the age he was supposed to be. Changbin was always teased for being too soft-hearted by his family before and now by his new one. He wanted to fight off death a little longer for the young boy.

"Fuck, it got you good," he commented, carefully removing the boy's hand from the spot. His face drained. "Seungmin, he needs care."

"Remove your hand when I signal." Seungmin ripped a chunk off his clothes, tying it around his shoulder. He said, "Seems like he's coming to the hideout anyway."

“You can drop me off at my apartment. I’ll show you the way— “ Jeongin's body got hoisted up, his spluttering protests unheard or ignored more likely. "I have a place where I stay. You can drop me off there, really."

"For the love of God, please don't throw a hissy fit right now and accept our help," Seungmin huffed, readjusting the boy on his back a little harsher than was necessary.

Jeongin bit his bottom lip to refrain from screaming.

Seungmin continued his monologue, “I don’t know how well your knowledge is on the serpents, but one out of three is venomous. Do you have a decent first aid kit at your place? I’m pretty sure you don’t even have a bed.”

"This usually doesn't happen," he uttered through gritted teeth. He wasn’t going to admit to the straight guesses the boy had made; he was mad because he was right. "Only when people are watching. I always fail miserably when someone's watching," he grumbled.

"Yeah, okay I take full blame now stop struggling," Seungmin pettily agreed with the younger, mainly to shut him up.

“So… Is it far?” Jeongin eventually asked. “What if we get attacked again? You’re going to die looking like idiots. At least I’ve got an excuse…”

If he could faint just about now, Seungmin’s fate in the earth would be restored ever so slightly.


	3. Chapter 3

Another scream echoed through. The Lee family never minded that, though. In fact, there was no screaming. Everything outside the walls of their subdivision was an illusion, a lie parents made up to keep the kids inside. 

Choking, gurgling. 

"Felix, sweetheart, are the cookies not good? Do I need to ask for new ones?"

Felix looked up from his tea cup, watching the dried leaves form a pattern on the bottom of the porcelain. 

A gunshot. 

He shrunk in his shoulders. The wails made him his stomach churn; the last thing on his mind was food at the moment. Not when there was a battle of life and death going on outside of their clean-cut fish tank. Felix, despite pretending to oblivious in front of his family, was fairly aware of what was going on outside of the walls. When everyone was sound asleep he would go on the internet and see for himself the horrors of the lower classes. 

_Parasite. Riots. Raids._

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Back to consciousness, he unleashed his grip on the table cloth. "No, mom, it's alright. There's just this... assignment for school that's kept me up all night."

He could feel his older brother's eyes sting in his neck. There was a scolding coming his way, he could sense it in the way Minho's eyes left a scar on his skin. 

"Felix!" his mother exclaimed, a slight pout on her lips. "I appreciate how hard you're working for school, but you've got to rest too."

"She's right, Lix," Minho mumbled into his cup. "It's not good to feed yourself that information late at night."

"What was that, Minho?" Their father closed his newspaper, sending a questioning stare at his eldest son. 

"Just reminding him to take care of his health," Minho smiled, that perfect cover smile that the shone on their family portrait too. "Don't want him to end up like me, now do we?"

He raised his cup to his lips, watching his father shift uncomfortably from over the rim. The man quickly folded open his paper again. No chance that he was that invested in the latest drama, especially since he deemed half of it false. 

Their mother, blinking quickly in the other direction, shoved the tray closer to all the males of the family. "They're best when they're fresh from the oven."

"I have an assignment due," Minho smiled, collecting his blazer from the chair's rest. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, then vanishing up the stairs. 

"Me too," Felix quickly added, before their parents would complain that all they did was sit, locked up in their room. He shot up, taking a cookie or two from the tray and hobbling after his brother. Immediately after his retreat his parents broke out into a whisper fit, which he tried his best to ignore. 

He dragged his feet, step after step after step. Their voices faded into the background, but he couldn't block the echoes out. He fastened his pace. The hall was dimly lit from their high windows that almost reached the ceiling. They cast dark shadows of the doors on the floor, looking very close to a nightmarish claw coming to reap him. 

He swallowed away a shaky breath. He jolted away from the vivid imagery that was unfolding inside his head. Instead he knocked on his brother's door. 

"Minho?" he asked, leaning his ear against the wood.

"Come over here."

The reply followed without a delay, so just as quickly Felix bolted in, claiming his usual spot on Minho's bed. The elder laid his glasses down on his desk, rubbing the exhaustion off his face. He rolled his chair back, firing himself on top of his younger brother. He spread out like a starfish while the younger groaned in surprise. 

The elder squiggled. "What is bothering you?" 

"You're crushing me!" Felix yelled with a strain. "I can't speak like this!"

Felix' lungs opened up again. Minho was now laying next to him on his stomach. His arms were supporting his head, inspecting his younger brother's features for any trace of a tear or frown. 

He said, "I gave you space, now talk."

"It doesn't feel right," Felix sighed, staring at Minho's plain, ceiling. There were subtle pointed outlines that once surrounded a glow-in-the-dark galaxy. They had been taken down once Minho's medical returned, shortly before he started middle school.

The older Lee sibling's eyebrows scrunched. "What doesn't?"

"Aren't we acting too... _normal_?" the younger questioned, his mind buzzing with all the other words he had wanted to use. _Indifferent, selfish, apathetic_. 

"There's nothing we can do about it," Minho replied straight-out. 

"Dad reads it on the news all the time," Felix mumbled. Despite his voice having dropped down two husky, deep octaves there was still a child-like innocence in it. "We should at least acknowledge that the world is burning around us."

"Which we do," Minho commented. His younger brother's face fell, so he continued, "but then again: what can we do about it? We can't create a vaccine, we can't shoot any walking, scaly thing. It isn’t any different from murder. Inside there is still a human."

"We could at least provide food and shelter," Felix murmured, his voice so low it actually chilled Minho's spine. If he hadn't been as sulky and pure-hearted as he was, people assumed that he was the older one of the duo.

Minho smiled, yet it didn't reach his eyes. He pushed himself into a seated position, running his hands through his brother's dead-bleached hair, pleasantly surprised that it didn't crunch at contact. 

"And risk getting infected," he uttered airily, laughing without any genuine emotion. "Lix, I understand that it's horrible what's happening, but use that big brain of yours. We're not heroes."

Felix pressed his plump lips into a thin line. His eyes darted over to the stack of law books on Minho's shelf. "I don't want to be one, but I can't stand hearing them scream and cry. No matter how much I try to mute it, no pillow can block desperation."

The books were stacked so messily, yet they were still organized on size and topic. Felix didn't like the chaos on it, or perhaps it was the subject he didn't like. Deep down he knew that it was because law had _never_ been Minho's passion or calling. Felix could see through it all; the eye bags that hung under those eyes from nights spent studying were a vicious torture to him. He hated seeing him in that state, but what he hated even more was Minho brushing it off, grinning and telling him it was alright. 

"What would the earth look like from space right now?" Felix inquired when he spotted a stray astronomy book, dust-coated and cast aside. 

"Sad," Minho responded shortly. With a clouded smile he ran his gaze past his desk. It was neat and structured; too neat and structured for it to be a studying area. He ran his finger down Felix’ nose as if he were a cat. "Don't beat yourself up over things you can't change, alright? It'll only make you upset and you'll feel more powerless than before."

“I already feel powerless,” Felix dramatically groaned, deflating into what closely resembled a school lunch that had been crushed by a heavy pile of books. “Nothing can make this worse.”

“You’re thinking in extremes again,” Minho commented. “That’s a dangerous mindset, you know? It could kill you.”

Felix rolled his eyes at the last part. “And _I’m_ the one thinking in extremes?”

“All I’m saying is that you keep me up at night,” the elder deadpanned. He looked up, crossed-eyed, at the bangs hiding his forehead. He let out a staged cry. “Look at that! You’re giving me grey hair at twenty-three…”

“Should I buy you hair dye? Is that it?” Felix retorted, cooing at his brother sarcastically.

“All I ask of you is to be careful,” Minho finally cut the chase. He sent the younger a pointed gaze. “Before you go to the basement at least think it through, yeah? And don’t go alone. I’m not letting you do that.”

Felix shot up with such speed that filled his vision with black spots. He shut his eyes in an elongated blink. “Who says I’m going there?”

“You’re fiddling,” Minho stated, holding up a finger for counts. “You’re restless and you’ve been rummaging around there. You’ve been acting out of character.”

Felix replied, “Puberty?”

“I can see through you, Lix,” Minho smiled. “Don’t even try. If you go, I go too.”

“It’s dangerous, Min,” Felix accusingly spoke, poking the elder in the chest.. “Focus on caring for yourself.”

“I’m going to die sooner or later anyway,” Minho responded, carefully locking his younger brother’s hand in his. He placed it over the weak beating of his heart. “Rather on the battlefield than over a textbook.”

“You won’t,” Felix muttered. “You’ve been doing well. So much for lecturing me on worst case scenario thinking.”

“I’m going with you.” Minho crossed his arms. “You’re still my baby brother, no matter how old you get. I will protect you till the day I die.”

Felix mirrored the boy’s actions – something he’d done profusely growing up. “What if I refuse?”

“Between you and me, let’s see who can be more stubborn,” Minho uttered in the most steadfast tone Felix had ever heard from him. If Felix was completely honest, Minho was quite a pushover and the younger could easily get his way. However, this time was remarkably different from previous ones. Minho added, “I’ve been holding myself back because I’m older. I have a lot of restrained stubbornness.”

<><><>

Felix felt the covers stick to his body as a discomforting extra layer. He hadn’t left Minho’s room that night, since his older brother had _insisted_ on him staying over. Truthfully, Felix – similar to Minho – could see right through his cheerful façade; he knew Minho was wary. He was wary of Felix ending up leaving on his own, scared that he would be left behind with no knowledge of where the younger was and if he was safe.

Minho had been Felix’ guard dog for as long as the latter had memories. Minho had always been the first one to care, the first to worry and the first to comfort. He was a shield that warded off all evil. From the moment their parents had placed the infant in Minho’s toddler arms, his life had been given a purpose: Felix must never be harmed in any way possible.

Minho stirred, the blanket tightly pulled over his ear, but under his nose. It was a habit he had developed in his younger years, when he was afraid flies would fly into his ears and lay their eggs in his brain. Perhaps this was the way one could survive the terror bestowed upon earth.

Felix’ gaze was set on the red numbers on the small alarm clock. They were counting up, up, up, back to where they started. He listened to his brother. His breathing was deep, slow and regular. Usually Minho would be panting, sucking in huffs clumsily.

“Min, I know you’re awake,” Felix whispered ahead of him. His brother didn’t reply, yet he could feel the sheets being shifted to the left slightly. “Stop pretending, I’m not going to leave without you. Promise.” 

He twisted around, cuddling up to the brunet. He nuzzled his nose in his brown tufts. “I’ll never let you go, yeah?”

Minho melted into the embrace, though his shoulders were still as stuck as first. Felix could almost hear his gears, creaking and steaming, fueled by worries. Felix was the main stressor and though he knew, he felt that if he didn’t move they were sure to be doomed.

“Lix, think about our parents,” Minho finally mumbled. “What is your exact plan?”

“Remember that kid that used to live down the block?” Felix asked. The bright image lit up in his mind again. “Big eyes, even bigger glasses, chubby cheeks.”

As if Felix’ mental visions had been transferred, Minho vaguely saw the shy little boy. He always wore shirts two sizes too big, claiming his mother believed he’d grow into them. “Han Jisung?”

“Him,” Felix confirmed. “He went out to care for the people and never returned.”

Minho frowned, then remembering it couldn’t be seen in the dark of his room, so he inquired, “What about him?”

“It may sound stupid, but I… he was close to us before his family…” Felix trailed off and Minho shuddered. The Han family was a controversial topic among their community, a topic they’d all pretend never existed to begin with. They – similar to anything slightly unpleasant – simply wiped them from their memory bank.

“You’re willing to risk your life because you’re worried about your childhood friend?” Minho waited for a moment, but the younger’s reply never came. “Lix, does he even remember you?”

“No, Min,” Felix answered, “but his family knew about the disease before hell broke loose. He… What if he has answers…”

“Then he should do something,” the elder said. “It’s not your job.”

Felix sat up. Immediately Minho felt the low temperature of the bedroom creep up on him. However, he remained in the same position. He couldn’t stand seeing the younger’s hurt expression. Despite every inch of him telling him to comfort him, Minho’s mind told him that it was best to remain unmoved. That way Felix would see the point he was trying to make. 

“One day our walls will fall,” Felix stated; a fact he was certain of. “If we don’t do anything, we’re sure to die. Maybe later than others, but we’ll still die. I don’t want to die feeling guilty.”

A thick tension had set in the room. Neither dared utter a word, scared that it would send the rubber band holding their sanity to snap. Minho was back to its irregular puffs, meaning his attention was completely diverted to other problems. Felix tried to wipe his clammy hands on the warm blankets, but his hands already felt dirty. No amount of rubbing would help him rid the feeling. He swallowed.

Felix finally used his voice to slice through the silence. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t be going anywhere. I promised.”

“No, you’re right.” Minho turned to his back and rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palms. “I’m being selfish. I’m only thinking about our safety. I’m letting the world rot for our sake.”

“Minho, what human wouldn’t put their own needs first?” Felix replied. He looked out of the window. The street was too calm for comfort. Not a single soul was to be detected, as if they lived in a ghost town. However, when the night died, the misery of outside rose from their ashes. Felix pulled his knees to his chest. “I’m doing this to indirectly save my own ass.”

Minho – not winning over his deep-rooted instincts after all – cracked.

“Don’t pack too much,” he said. “We’ll leave after mom and dad fall asleep.”


	4. Chapter 4

"Jisung! Get the med kit!"

"Why though? Did you get hurt?" a boy, presumably Jisung said. "Oh, a body."

Jeongin's head bobbed back, his vision turning hazy. However, Seungmin's unstable running had been what had kept him awake. His head had been shaken in every direction. It was hard to pass out when that was the case.   
  
He squinted his eyes, though he couldn't make out his face. He had big eyes, that was for certain. Big, bright, chocolate colored eyes with dirty blonde hair.

"He's still alive," Seungmin responded.

"I'm also still conscious," Jeongin mumbled sluggishly.

"What is the issue?" Jisung asked, laying the kit out on the table and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Put him down on here."

"Stabbed by a serpent," Changbin explained, anxiously nibbling at the nail on his thumb.

"Right..." Jisung nodded, peering through the rip in the boy's black hoodie with scrunched up gaze. "Can I get some lighting?"

Another boy appeared from outside the shadows. Jeongin couldn't tell wether it was him spiraling physically or if Seungmin had caused permanent brain damage with his hobbling. All he could make out was shoulder-length hair. Even if his sight had been functioning, he wouldn't have been able to see features; a curtain of long, raven locks hung over his face.

The boy came closer with a flashlight in hand. Switched on, he immediately gagged.

"Ah, yes, that's nasty," Jisung agreed. He took scissors from the box. "Splendid, just splendid. What a messy stab."

Jeongin drowsily looked through his eyelids, trying to play it off as a glare. "Are you... going to... cut up... hoodie?"

"Hyunjin can sew," replied Jisung while Jeongin could only listen to his favorite piece of clothing being torn to pieces. The next thing was rummaging and a soft curse. More rummaging and then a defeated exhale. "Bite this, please."

Before he could reply, Jeongin had a cloth stuffed in his mouth. An excruciating sting crippled his shoulder. He clenched his jaw in a muffled cry. His shoulder felt as if it had been torched; a flame had been set next to it and he was being burned alive. When he looked to the side he realized it wasn't only a feeling. He was being lit like a cigarette.

"I'm sorry, but we've got to burn the venom and stop the bleeding. Our floor is ruined because of your blood trail," Jisung muttered, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. He readjusted the position of Hyunjin's arm, who had his head turned in the complete opposite direction. "I promise it'll be over soon."

It hadn't only been aimed at the injured, also the certified lamp about to vomit his guts out needed some reassurance. The poor boy looked about as green as a field of grass, back when those were still a thing.

"How did you manage to get impaled by a nearly blind creature," Jisung inquired, turning Jeongin's face away from his operating area, so he wouldn't see the needle and thread he was assembling.

"You know they have heat sensors, right in their noses," Seungmin responded, raising his eyebrows at Jisung's dramatic eye roll at him.

He sighed, "I was trying to distract him, but thank you for your answer, Seungmin. You don’t have to prove you were a dedicated student; we _know_."

Jeongin felt as if he was sweating out all his bodily liquids. The remains of his shirt were clinging onto his clammy body as if he'd been coated with honey. Another sharp pain. His pupils rolled to the back of his head. Seungmin really ruined his head, the way the world was trembling.

Jisung's eyes widened, noticing the boy's body swinging away from him. "Someone catch him!"

Jeongin's head rolled, dangling loosely atop his body. His limbs were limp as overcooked noodles; soggy and swollen. All strength had left him; he needed support to sit up straight. Even toddlers didn't need that. The white light of Hyunjin’s bad aim made him close his eyes. For the longest time he didn't open them again. 

<><><>

"Did we... shock...?"

"... quite possible..."

Jeongin released a creaking sound. His throat was dry as the desert. Every swallow was like dragging a piece of sandpaper down his esophagus. 

“Did he move?”

It was a voice that Jeongin hadn’t heard before. He concluded that that must have been Hyunjin. He sounded as soft of he had come off; quiet, sheltered and preserved. He couldn’t be much of a talker and he certainly wasn’t a fan of gore and pain. Not the physical aspect. Quiet people usually had the most inner turmoil.

There was no further response from anyone in the room. Jeongin tried to open his eyes, which went fairly easily; the underground bunker had a stylish lack of windows and one flaming barrel in the centre that provided enough light to distinguish faces. 

“Jeongin?” Jisung somehow had the ability to sound sarcastic at all times, even if the only thing he said was a name. “Can you hear me?”

Jeongin let out a dry groan. His mouth felt icky and disgusting. In this situation he knew he had no right to be picky about hygiene, however he had managed to brush his teeth every day. He was the downfall of humanity. He mumbled something incoherent.

Jisung leaned his ear toward the boy. “What?”

“Wa… ter…”

Jisung’s mouth dropped into an ‘O’ shape. “Of course. Hyunjin!”

A bottle got flung across the room, hitting Jisung against the head. In an attempt to pick it up, he fumbled around as a big, very-hard-not-to-have-a-grip-on object slipped through his fingers. Jeongin refused to believe that those hands had treated him.

“Can you try to sit up?” Jisung asked, leaving the water bottle aside to assist the boy. As soon as Jeongin’s head left the table — had he really been knocked out on top of their dinner table? — the dark room got filled up with neon flashes. He nearly fell back again if it hadn’t been for Jisung’s hand firmly placed on his back.

“Slowly,” he spoke firmly. “You’ll be out in seconds if you’re going to rush it.”

Jeongin squeezed his eyes shut . “Are you even a doctor?” he asked, one eye open so he could at least face the boy.

“I watched dramas,” Jisung replied, laying the boy’s arm over his shoulder. “We’ll move you to the couch, alright? I personally don’t believe that tables are that comfortable.”

“You could’ve murdered me.” Jeongin’s voice felt like he’d stuck his head in the sand and took a big, greedy inhale. He coughed. “I thought I’d be turned before that happened.”

“No need to be so cynical,” Jisung shushed him. He carefully – adjusted to Jeongin’s strength-lacking legs – helped the boy walk over to the couch. It wasn’t much better, but at least there was slight cushioning. “I’ve never lost a patient.”

Hyunjin sniggered, though quickly quit when Jisung shot him a glare. The raven hair fell back into their curtain-like role, however Hyunjin imagined on how Jeongin would’ve reacted if he was informed about the fact that he had been Jisung’s _only_ patient. Cuts and burns didn’t count; all that needed was cleaning, binding and a kiss. Jisung was generous regarding the last requirement. He might cause an overdose one of these days.

Jisung sat the blue haired boy down, motioning for Hyunjin to come fulfill his lamp duties. “You should have more faith in me.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, however still complied to the request. It wasn’t as if he had much else to do in the cramped, dark basement they hid in. He held out his hand for the flashlight to be pressed into it. By now he knew from what exact angle – 80 degrees – Jisung could see best. It had always been consistent; checkups were always on the same spot and the artificial lighting never shone brighter or weaker. It always remained at a constant potency, much as how Hyunjin felt the flow of his life go.

His eyes landed on Jeongin. How old could he be? Definitely not an adult yet. When he observed the boy, taking in his lanky, boyish built, slightly too long bangs, the crinkling of his nose at any slight discomfort, he refused to believe that this was the pest he’s heard shop owners from all over complain about. This wasn’t a criminal. This was a boy trying to survive.

“I don’t even know you,” Jeongin replied to Jisung, “but thank you for treating me. How long have I been out for?”

“A little higher, Hyun,” Jisung said, squinting his eyes to somehow get a better view. Hyunjin, once again, followed his orders. “Thank you and to answer your question, Jeongin, about… four and a half days.”

“Oh.” Jeongin was surprised, yet he didn’t know what else he could’ve done in that time. If he were honest, he couldn’t remember what being cared for felt like anymore. He could barely remember his family’s faces; he looked like his father, but even that could only give a vague picture. He noticed a sudden stop of the tugging at his injury. He asked, “What’s wrong?”

Jisung blinked. “When I checked on it yesterday it looked…” He was at loss for words, as if every logical explanation had been deemed false. “It seems alright now. Guess it healed overnight…”

“Ah… yeah…” Jeongin pulled the ripped fabric up, that way hiding from the ogling stares. “I’ll get going now. Sorry for the bother.”

He pushed his body off the couch. His knees buckled under his weight; if it hadn’t been for the other two catching him, he’d be down on the floor.

“Stay here,” Jisung said with a noticeable amount of strain to his voice. “Doctor’s orders. I’ll write you a note to get out of chores.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Jeongin offered; he hoped it would be enough of an excuse.

“Honestly, Jeongin, it bothers me more knowing you’re out there wandering to nowhere,” Jisung replied. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms; if Jeongin moved one more time he’d tie him to his seat.

It was as if he glued Jeongin’s lips together. He couldn’t bring himself to speak every mean thought that sparked in his mind. As much as he wanted to snap, these boys had cared for him, despite the extra effort it would’ve taken. Deep down he knew it was for his skill; he was a handy contribution to their team, an easy pass to resources.

He felt less than comfortable surrounded by complete strangers. It was only two for now, but there were at least two more and he didn’t know how many other tools they’d picked up on the way. Their eyes tracked him, calculating his every move. A part of his conscience was telling him that this was what care felt like; what having people around was like.

His mind irked for something to numb out the high emotions he felt in that exact moment. The usual de-stressor Jeongin went for was a cigarette, however he knew better than to ask a doctor for one. Jeongin deemed himself to be quite smart, despite not having the chance to even finish high school. He never excelled in studies anyway; with his grades his future was sure to be doomed. Instead, he was street smart. It was a trait that ran on his mother’s side of the family, which was exactly why he was doing quite fine as an abandoned teenager amidst a worldwide crisis.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He was met with Hyunjin’s sharp eyes, which was parallel to his honey-like voice when he said, “I’ll fix your sweater for you.”

Unconsciously Jeongin covered up his bared skin, shrinking into the hoodie in hopes of the black swallowing him up whole. 

The dark haired caught up on the change in demeanor quickly. He pulled a random white t-shirt from a chair. “Wear this for now. How are you surviving in a sweater? It’s scorching outside.”

“Where did the other two go?” Jeongin asked. The boy’s question hadn’t gone unnoticed, Jeongin just hadn’t felt the need to elaborate. He quizzically took the piece from Hyunjin, awkwardly clutching it to his chest. He could nearly hear Hyunjin roll his eyes, however the boy stuck up his thumb and turned around. Jisung only covered his eyes.

It was as if Jeongin was assigned the most tiresome activity during P.E.; arms out of sweater, shirt on head, wiggle shirt through head hole, arms through sleeves, pull off sweater. He felt as if he were back in the locker room, trying his best to hide his scrawny physic from the other boys.

“Changbin and Seungmin?” he asked. No one had answered his question; he figured it was because he hadn’t been clear enough who he meant.

Hyunjin had his attention averted on quite some other business, so it was Jisung who felt the responsibility to explain.

“Patrolling the area,” he replied, “checking if there are any flaws in our barriers, checking for any dangers we should be wary of, perhaps a person in need of aid. We’re kind of like the _Wonder Pets_. ”

“ _Wonder Pets_?” Jeongin echoed. In a distant memory he could recall the show, the fun jingle that opened it, yet he couldn’t quite see how that applied to them.

“ _Wonder Pets_ ,” Jisung confirmed. “I’m the brainy guinea pig, Seungmin is that fluffy duck, Changbin’s the kinda dumb turtle and Hyunjin… he’s that alarm, tin can thing.”

“Did you just call yourself the leader?” Hyunjin interjected. Jeongin noticed that his way of talking had continuously been in a flat monotone, therefore making it hard to distinguish statements from questions and sarcasm from seriousness. 

“I’m only stating that I’m the smartest here.” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. Jisung gulped and added, “but you’re a close second.”

The boy brushed his long hair behind his ear, fixated on the cross stitch he was performing. He asked, “And how are you going to describe dumb and dumber?”

“Changbin and Seungmin’s negative amounts of common sense combine into a positive,” Jisung said. “That’s how they explained math to me before, at least. Two negatives compute to a positive.”

Hyunjin didn’t speak again after that; he didn’t see the point in doing so. As he picked up what he’d been doing before an awkward silence fell upon them. Jeongin’s eyes went past every part of the room, inspecting how it looked with a straight mind. It was fairly plain and dirty; it was obvious that a bunch of teenage boys were the inhabitants. Clothes were tossed left and right, dishes were trashed, but at least they had a collective space for garbage. Jeongin couldn’t blame them for the mess and he honestly had seen places left in a worse state.

Though past the imagery he could see the ambience through their actions. The trusted, safe environment the boys had created, the bonds they’d built up. When Seungmin and Changbin had come barging only a few moments later, it only got more obvious. They told their adventures, or lack thereof. It grew into a playful banter, exchanges of similar past experiences, unrelated memories.

Jeongin lost his way. He was a bystander, watching from the sidelines; he was reminded that they were a group and he wasn’t a part of it. He reached for his pockets. Empty. His eyes widened. He patted them once again, then the back ones. His eyes traveled over to Hyunjin. He wasn’t a doctor.

He opened his mouth, however – without looking up – the boy stopped him. “I’m not giving them to you. Getting your lungs covered in tar isn’t cool.”

“But–“

Hyunjin placed a finger on his lips, shutting Jeongin up too for some reason. “Go complain to Changbin, he’s the oldest.” 

“Wait, you can’t tell me what to do,” Jeongin protested, shooting up from his seat. Immediately Jisung pulled him back down by his shirt.

He said, “Sit, hostage.”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped, spluttering protests. Hyunjin took a scissor, staring through his curtain-like locks right into Jeongin’s soul. The boy zipped his lips in response, unconsciously leaning back into the cushioning. Hyunjin nodded, flashing the first smile Jeongin had seen from him and cut the thread.

He flung the sweater at his head. “There,” he said proudly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took a little creative turn.”

Jeongin spread the fabric to see what he had meant. A hook-like ‘S’, much like a lightning bolt, a just as sharp ‘K’ attached to it and finally a ‘Z’ as a mirror to the first letter. He looked over the edge, making eye contact with each one in the room.

“ _Stray Kids_ ,” Changbin said, patting a hand on the boy’s back. “Welcome to the family.”


	5. Chapter 5

Felix was one to bark, but never bite. He spoke of grand plans with immeasurable confidence, but once the moment of action finally arrived, he felt like an ant on a busy playground, ready to be stomped on. Like ants he’d let his head explode before he’d allow anyone to hurt him.

When they stood at the top of the staircase with their bags in tow, Felix’ hands shook violently Minho feared he’d rip off the railing. He looked at his younger brother; his pupils twitched and he could see his shadow shiver against the dangerously white walls. The clock read 2am, the beginning of ghosting hour. When he was younger, Minho had feared monsters under his bed, ghosts in the mirror. It had been forbidden to leave bed after midnight; no one knew what would come to drag him into the pits the hell.

However, hell had risen and coated Earth like a blanket, so he hadn’t much to lose anymore.

He took Felix’ hand in his, rubbing thumb over the boys knuckles. If Felix had remained the little boy from their younger years, it would help him calm down. Just as when he comforted him after nightmares, Felix’ breathing steadied.

He swallowed his nerves and nodded. “I’m alright.”

“I’ve got you,” Minho reassured just in case. “I’ve got your back.”

“Let’s go,” Felix stated, gripping the straps of his backpack.

He remembered the way he held onto it during his trips to school, the nerves he felt on the way. The only way he felt control over his life was by holding onto something. He was too old to hold onto his brother’s hand; as a high school junior there were a lot of things he’d deemed too immature for his age. He couldn’t be babied forever.

He took the first step down, Minho trailing after shortly. It seemed as if everything always creaked louder when the situation called for the opposite. The stairs screamed with each foot placed on it. Felix bit his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming along with them – out of frustration, that was. He thought that maybe he had packed up too much, that the extra weight in his bag was what caused the loudness. However, his school books were _significantly_ heavier than the minimal amount of clothes and snacks he carried now.

After what felt like a dragging, torturous eternity they finally hit the bottom. They simultaneously released the breath they’d been holding.

“Do you think not breathing made us lighter?” Felix asked the elder, who snorted at the question. Felix had to admit, it did sound a little idiotic.

“In the head, yes,” Minho replied. He pointed into their kitchen. “Behind the alcohol in the cabinet, right?”

“Of course, the sacred area,” Felix confirmed. “I get it and you keep watch? Mom might experience some stomach discomfort and go here.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” the brunet mumbled, mostly to himself. He raised an eyebrow at his brother. “You’re a step ahead of me. I’d be proud if my older sibling pride hadn’t been damaged.”

“Admit that I’m smarter next time, will ya?” Felix sang in his deep voice that would continue to catch Minho by surprise for as long as they lived.

Minho stuck up his thumb. “Never.”

Felix rolled his eyes, though then remembered what they were supposed to be doing. He signaled toward their kitchen, knowing Minho would understand what he meant. Minho gave a nod of approval. He placed his finger on his lips and turned to their hallway. Left, right, left; it stayed empty and still apart from their father’s snores and mother’s muffled mutters.

Felix held his breath once again, knowing that glass clattering against glass had to be one of the loudest noises after fathers sneezing. He knew he had to remove every single one of them before he could remove the faux back. Felix didn’t initially understand why he would’ve kept them in such an impractical area; in case of emergency it was too much of a hassle to actual get to them. Before that they’d be dead.

Although, in their republic guns were illegal. Air rifles were a bare pass, which meant they owned one of those too. Their dad owned hunting guns for sport and a few extra just in case. The perks of being influential included dodging the law. The second reason was exactly what was happening right now; having two pesky, rebellious sons wanting to toy around with weapons.

The glass might as well have scraped Minho’s skin, the way he flinched at the sudden raise in volume.

In a whisper he yelled, “Be quiet!”

“I’m trying!” Felix replied, mimicking his tone.

Felix decided that being slow would only drag the sound on longer, so with one quick movement after the other, he shoved the bottles of wine and whiskey out of the way, cracked out the back board and pulled out the – in his opinion – surprisingly long case. He’d watched his father take them out once before, a little over a decade ago. He believed he had the technique mastered and really, it wasn’t that hard. All it took was a little insight and correct angling. Also a bit of brute force, but Felix wasn’t that strong.

It was as if the sky had fallen with the decibels Felix produced. Instead of whining over it, he called Minho over and ran for the door. Their parents always kept the keys in the lock at night and for great escapades the habit provided an ideal situation. They didn’t speak much; it would take their energy that could better be used for dragging the heavy case.

The elder urged his brother to go out first, signing he’d follow him. There was a groggy shuffling coming from the west wing, a faint questioning of what was happing, if they had heard it too.

“Hurry up, Lix,” Minho spoke in a steady monotone, though that was exactly what provoked Felix; Minho only went blank when the situation was serious.

It was odd, Felix had noticed. His brother always seemed to steady when situations were dire. His breathing, his thinking, his actions; all except his heartbeat. That was the sole thing that would stay rigged.

It was these moments when Minho’s smile dropped and his serious side came out, the side his father showed during trials, that Felix truly realized how mature he was. Usually they’d mess around, poke and irk each other till one finally snapped, but Felix tended to forget that Minho had grown up before he should’ve. It was these moments where Felix realized he was the younger brother, who trusted the older sibling’s word blindly.

The firearms suddenly tripled in weight. Felix felt as if he would sink through the soil right into the pits of hell, given how heavy they were. Felix didn’t know why he ever thought it was a good idea to do this. His plan was impulsive, childish, dumb. There was little to no chance of succeeding. He was foolish to even think he could make a change. He had no clue where Han Jisung was. For all he knew he was shipped off to the other side of the country or dead.

“Felix, this isn’t the time.”

His brother’s voice crashed his train of worries. His eyes glazed with a sudden realization of what consequences were to come. “Min–“

“Not now,” the elder interjected, his expression stoic. “Unless you’ve decided to cancel your plan, then you can go back to your room. I’ll take care of mom and dad. I’ll take the blame.”

“No! It’s my idea, so I face the punishment,” Felix protested, almost forgetting to keep his tone hushed and low. “When will you stop taking bullets for me? I’m not a baby–“

“But I’m your older brother!” Minho spoke, though it might as well have been a roar. “For as long as I live, I’ll take it all if it means you’ll be safe and happy.” 

Felix gulped and nodded. There wasn’t anything left for him to say; he’d been muted by the boy’s outburst. Minho rarely got frustrated. He’d scold Felix, yes, and tell him about the dangers of life and how to act in certain situations. He’d tell him how to avoid getting hurt, how to punch others if necessary – though violence was never the answer – and hugged him when he was sad.

His mind found clarity again. This was the right thing to do.

“Let’s go.”

Before Minho could once again ask him if he was a hundred percent certain – actually, it was mostly him not wanting to argue with his conscience again –, he stepped out where the chill wind welcomed him with open arms. He liked Minho’s better.


	6. Chapter 6

“Jeongin, I believe you’re not fully aware what ‘resting’ means,” Jisung muttered from their kitchen table, messing around with some cables.

“I’ll rest at night if my body allows me to,” Jeongin replied. He pulled his hoodie on – the logo proudly rested on his shoulder –, his ski mask following suite. “Jisung, I haven’t done _anything_ since I woke up.”

“I believe you’re not fully aware,” Seungmin echoed Jisung’s words, “but there isn’t much to do these days. Everyone’s either dying or fighting to survive.”

“Such a mood maker you are, Seungmin,” Changbin mumbled with a roll of the eyes. He strapped his knife to his thigh. “You piece of shit.”

“I’m letting you die on this mission,” Seungmin smiled, dropped it and scratched his crowbar over the floor with a sweet smile. He winked at Changbin, though the boy had grown quite accustomed to the younger’s – annoying – antics. 

Jisung clicked his tongue and flinched at the skull-splitting sound. “Can we at least keep the floor intact. That’s all I ask.”

Of course his words went unheard. No one ever really listened to what Jisung said, especially when he was being the nagging parent none of them wanted. Unfortunately, that was the role Jisung had continuously taken on. He didn’t ask to become the head of an orphanage, yet here he was, raising three rats. Hyunjin said it was the consequence of claiming leader position.

“You might let me die, but Jeonginnie here wouldn’t,” Changbin mused. He rubbed the boy’s hair with an annoying hum.

“But I would,” the youngest of the ensemble seethed. He sent Changbin a death glare, to which the elder raised an eyebrow. Despite his unbothered demeanor, Jeongin knew he would be a little more cautious from now on; their first encounter definitely left its scars – figuratively – and damage – literally.

Jeongin knew it was wrong, but he quite enjoyed Changbin flinching out of his way whenever he did as much as raise a finger. However, he wouldn’t hurt him intentionally anymore. He’d still get his enjoyment out of it. 

“So I guess everyone said ‘fuck whatever the doctor thinks and let’s bring an injured man along’!” Jisung exclaimed. With a thud he dropped his head on the wood, repeating the action multiple times.

“He’s a child, though,” Seungmin objected, carefully poking the boy with the curved end of his metal.

Jisung hissed, swatting his hand vaguely in the boy’s direction, yet didn’t raise his head. 

“And you’re not actually a doctor,” Hyunjin piped in as his first contribution to the situation.

He was sat in the corner of the room, reading a book that Jeongin swore he’d seen him read at least twice that month. Jeongin also had to admit that if Hyunjin didn’t make the occasional sarcastic and offensive remarks – mostly to Jisung. – he would’ve forgotten he was even in the room. Hyunjin was like a shadow in the dark and about as terrifying as one too. He’d given Jeongin quite some scares when they had to switch night-watch. He was a ghost, the way he moved.

“I’m not kissing your bruises better anymore.” Jisung threw the tangled cables across the table and crossed his arms.

Hyunjin looked up at him, crease between the eyebrows. “No one asked you to?”

“I’m not going to treat the internal damage I’m about to give you either,” Jisung hissed. He banged his fist on the table so loudly the roof shook. He was sure to give each person in the room an individual glare.

Jeongin cleared his throat, leaning to tie his shoelaces, which weren’t undone in the first place. “I’m still going, though,” he mumbled, though it was still audible to Jisung.

“Is this what parents mean when they say their child hit puberty?” He set down his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Why did I unwillingly get three moody, hormonal teenagers?”

“No one’s telling you to act like our mom,” Hyunjin spoke, softly but with an edge. From the time spent observing the boys and living with them, Jeongin had noticed that pestering Jisung was a hobby they all shared.

“Then what would become of this house?” Jisung asked, only to answer himself quickly. “That’s right, a nightmare.”

Hyunjin exhaled through the nose; a masked snort. “Are you going to send me to my room now?”

“No, you stay right in that corner and think about your actions,” Jisung bitterly responded, swinging a threatening fist at the boy.

Hyunjin, unfazed and unafraid of Jisung, rolled his eyes, going back to rereading that exact page for the nth time that day.

As they bickered, Jeongin looked up at Seungmin and Changbin. He followed Changbin’s finger, which was directed at the door. The boy stuck up his thumb. With his body still turned forward, he snuck towards the exit, picking the axes op on the way. They’d been left, abandoned, but never forgotten. Jeongin’s pride and joy, how he missed them. He also missed outing his pent-up aggression by cutting up demons. He kinda liked doing that as a passing-time.

Before reaching the outside world Jeongin said, “Bye, Jisung, I promise I’ll be back in one piece!”

He could hear Seungmin and Changbin snigger while Jisung cursed his lungs out, daring them to come back home later.

“We stress him out to much,” Changbin spoke. With his arm he blocked the sunlight that fell on his eyes like a sharp knife.

Seungmin shrugged, slapping the dirt off his pants.“It’s fun, though. Getting Jisung worked up is the only reason I get up in the morning.”

“We shouldn’t stay out too long,” Jeongin piped in. Of course he was grateful to see the light of day again, but he knew that the more time they spent in it, the greater the risks became. “Let’s get it done and over with and encountered as little monsters as possible.”

“There’s a store about ten minutes away if we hurry,” Seungmin said, putting on his no-nonsense attire. “When Changbin and I were doing rounds last time, we stumbled upon it. It’s nearly empty, though. We’re not the only ones trying to get a share. List?”

Changbin pulled up his sleeve, revealing his sloppy, rushed handwriting. “Painkillers, food – no specifications, but something that lasts –, water. Jisung also said, if possible, anesthetics, but I don’t we can get those. Extra bandaging should be there, though.”

Jeongin cringed, his body cherishing a not so fond memory of that unfortunate event it’d been through. “We can still try for the anesthetics. You never know.”

Seungmin snorted at the youngest’s uneasy face. “Sure, but what’s the main goal?”

“No casualties,” Jeongin mumbled. Though dealing with the announcement of deaths day after day, when it could happen to those around him, it felt a thousand times more real.

Though he hadn’t opened up to the boys entirely yet, he’d definitely warmed up to them. They were annoying, they were loud, they invaded his personal space, but they took him out of his head. Instead of his thoughts screaming the world to hell, drilling him into the ground, it was teasing and pestering that deafened those voices out.

_No casualties,_ he repeated to himself. 

“Exactly, so stick close together,” Seungmin stated. He rolled his neck. “Then, follow me.”


End file.
